Quell
by ParabolaOfMystery
Summary: Haymitch's games, the 50th Hunger Games, the 2nd Quarter Quell. Rated T for violence, obviously.
1. Reaping

**Hello everyone, plus any PJO readers who were alerted of this story. This is the story of the 50****th**** Hunger Games, the 2****nd**** Quarter Quell, just because Haymitch is kind of awesome. So enjoy. Sorry if there are any spelling mistakes or anything, I wrote this somewhat quickly in order to get the idea down. Reviews are welcome, I also love suggestions, sometimes I add them to the story. So review, tell me what you think. **

Haymitch Abernathy was doomed the moment someone said his name. Seeing as that someone was the District 12 escort, Marcus Pippins, his name became synonymous with _corpse. _

He heard the crowd gasp around him, heads turning and necks craning to see him. Haymitch ignored them and walked through the crowd that parted before him like the old Sea in the story his father told him when he was very young. It was weird now, thinking about his childhood, as he walked toward almost certain death. Was his whole life meant for the sole purpose of the entertainment for silly, fat, rich people? _Well then, _he thought grimly. _They want a show, they'll have it. _He climbed up the steps onto the stage, next to Marcus with his fluffy green afro and the two female tributes; Mika Sevenfold, a girl from the Seam who was bone-thin, and Maysilee Donner, which was a surprise. Maysilee was a town kid- she did not have tesserae like Haymitch and Mika, and she probably ate every day. When Maysilee's eyes met his, she nodded gravely and let a single tear trail down her cheek. Then she looked away, embarrassed, but not before Haymitch could see the resolution in her eyes. _She might stand a chance,_ he observed. _Not Mika, though. _Mika had strong trails of tears cutting through the dirt on her face, and her hands were shaking uncontrollably. _She won't make the first five minutes. Or thirty seconds._

Haymitch's observations of the female tributes were cut short by Marcus' high-pitched, feminine Capitol accent. Haymitch winced. The way they talked was so ridiculous, it sounded like they should be some fancy toy from the Capitol. "The second male tribute is… Charman Locus!"

Haymitch groaned. Charman lived a couple sooty houses away from him. He was a tall kid who looked like he'd been pulled through the taffy puller in the town's expensive candy shop. He was also whiny, annoying, daft, and probably the person that Haymitch hated the most. Aside from President Snow, of course.

Charman climbed up the last couple of steps. There were unmistakable tears in Charman's eyes, and Haymitch could tell he was trying not to cry. _No, let them out. The easier you seem to kill, the faster you'll be dead. _The tears disappeared when he saw Haymitch, though. Then the tears had disappeared and his eyes had narrowed. When it was time for them all to shake hands, he seemed to be trying to break Haymitch's fingers. Unfortunately, the latter was much stronger, and Charman turned out to be the one wincing. Haymitch pulled away from the annoying boy, smiling, to see Maysilee. Her hand was soft, unlike his own calloused hands. She gave his hand a little squeeze, which Haymitch returned. _If I make an alliance, it will be with her, _Haymitch thought as he shook Mika's frail hand. He was careful not to squeeze it at all, not hard like Charman's, or reassuring like Maysilee's; he was afraid if he put any pressure on her fingers at all, they would snap. As soon as the handshaking was over, the Peacekeepers began herding them all to the Justice Building. Haymitch stared down his assigned Peacekeeper angrily. He hated Peacekeepers. Not all of them were bad, of course; there was Jakkob who patrolled down the street. But he loathed the looks they gave him- like he was going to steal out of their garbage cans or beg them for food. It was ridiculous. Like he would _ever _beg for food. He had much more civilized and illegal ways of getting nourishment.

After the sour-smelling elevator ride in the Justice Building, Haymitch was herded into a small decorated room that was apparently made just for this Quell, so that there were enough rooms for all the tributes. His eyes immediately went to the floor- no there were none of the worn patches of carpet he'd heard about, where tributes paced uselessly, knowing they would die sometime in the next few weeks; the carpet was brand-new. Haymitch settled on the new couch, an uncomfortable thing with hardly any cushion. It was coated in velvet. He found it entertaining to run his fingers up and down, watching the fuzzy fabric change shades. He had just finished writing his name when the door burst open.

"Oh, _honey_!" his mother sobbed, locking her arms around his neck. It reminded him of one of the monkeys he'd seen in his Science book, one of the extinct animals.

"Mum, calm down," he answered. Over her shaking shoulder, he could see his father, standing straight and still, like he was afraid to move; and his little brother, whose lip was quivering. It was clear that he was trying not to cry.

"There- there's forty-eight of them," she cried. His shirt was getting wet from her tears. "You have no chance!"

Haymitch laughed cruelly and patted her on the shoulder. "Thanks for being optimistic, mum. And calm down. There will be so many people; they'll all kill each other for me. I'll be back before you know it."

His mother sat up, rubbing her swelling eyes. "We'd better get going," she sniffed. "Liona is waiting outside to see you."

Haymitch's heart fluttered. "Okay. Just a moment, though. Come here, Jamie!" Jamie shot over to Haymitch as fast as his little seven-year old legs could carry him. He buried his face into Haymitch shoulder, sniffling. He'd tried so hard not to cry, but it was all coming out now.

"Come one, Jamie," Haymitch said, trying to keep his voice optimistic. He ruffled Jamie's dark hair. "When I come back, I'll bring you a souvenir from the arena." Jamie nodded and slid off his lap, wiping his nose.

Just as his family was about to leave, his father stopped at the door. He looked at Haymitch, biting his lip. The coal miner- strong, stoic, brave- had never looked so vulnerable.

"Come back," he said gruffly.

"I will," Haymitch promised. "Feed Jamie extra while I'm gone."

"I will," his father returned, as the door closed.

The door had only closed for a second before it opened again. Haymitch had known who was going to come before she had stepped in; he met Liona right at the doorway, taking her in his arms, catching her breath with a long kiss. Her hands stroked his hair, and Haymitch felt her tears sliding down his cheeks.

When he broke off the kiss, she took a shuddering breath and stared him in the eyes. Her eyes were dark green, like emeralds, and they took his breath away every time he saw him. _I wish I could stop time here_, Haymitch thought. _I want to live in this moment for the rest of my life. _

"Haymitch, you have to win," she said. Her voice was strong and steady. This is what he loved about her- her strength, her determination. "You might not be as big as any of the Careers, or as strong. But you're fast, and ten times smarter. Outsmart them. That's your best chance."

"Sounds easy enough," he responded, and she smiled.

"Don't get too cocky," she said, but it was a teasing tone. She pulled herself out of his arms and went into her pocket. She brought out a small little drawstring bag, sewed together with teensy little stitches. It was made of leather, too; Haymitch knew how much leather cost. It probably cost a lot for her to buy this little bit of fabric. When she placed it in his hand, he felt something gritty inside. "It's your district token. A little bag of coal dust. It's sewed tight enough that nothing should escape."

Haymitch smiled. "If I put it in my boots, it will be just like home."

She bit her lip, but still smiled weakly. "No matter where you go, no matter what happens, remember me, remember yourself, remember where you came from. You're your own person. You're not a tool for them."

"Am I a tool for you?" Haymitch asked, his hands on her waist.

"Only if you want to be," she breathed, her breath warm against his neck. She pressed his lips against his, and that's where the two of them remained until the Peacekeepers came.


	2. Train Ride

**Hello buddies. So I was going through the Hunger Games fanfics, and noticed that SYOTs are highly prevalent.**

**Highly prevalent as in 90% of the Hunger Games fanfics.**

**This is a little sad, especially sinse some people just abandon them and leave them to lurk on the site… sniff sniff. I've made SYOCs, but I usually make a goal to keep them going. **

**Sigh…**

**I've gotten a couple reviews so far, and that makes me UBER excited. Hope you enjoy, and tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is always welcome. **

**Anyway… Here is Haymitch!**

Haymitch's room on the train was probably the nicest room he'd ever been in. There was a small yet comfortable bunk that was still larger than his bed at home, and a dresser full of fancy clothes in expensive fabrics. Above the bed was a large window. When he peered outside, he could only see a blur of color that made his eyes hurt. A rush of amber and brown. _Must be District 11, _he decided. He crossed the quarters to the dresser, running his hands through all the clothing and messing up all the folding. These clothes would cost probably 10 times what his family made in a year. Maybe a lifetime, even.

From the clothes, he pulled out a black pair of pants made out of some meshlike material. Haymitch couldn't tell what it was, but it was so soft and breathable. At random, he picked a plain black t-shirt. Looking at himself in the full length mirror, he noticed that the fabrics didn't really match up. _Oh well, _he thought, looking at his all black outfit. It made his hair seem darker and his eyes seem brighter. _At least I look like I have an edge. _

He started to try and fold the clothes back up, but ended up just shoving them in the drawer. Right as he managed to get it shut, there was a knock on the door and it slid open. It was Marcus.

"Can't you see I'm changing?" Haymitch shouted.

Marcus instinctively shut the door shut quickly. A second later, it opened again. "You're not changing," he said in his stupid accent. "You're already dressed."

"Good for you to notice," Haymitch replied. "You have been blessed with the gift of sight, I see." Haymitch hoped that Marcus would become frustrated with the sarcastic comment, but he only smiled. _Maybe he's really as stupid as he sounds. _

"I would just like to invite you to dinner with the other tributes. Come as soon as you can!" He shut the door with a flamboyant flourish and Haymitch could hear his feet pitter-pattering down the hall. Haymitch stared blankly at the door for a couple moments more, mesmerized by his escort's behavior. _Either he has an amazingly attitude, _he decided, _or he actually thinks I complimented him. _With a final tousle of his hair to make it seem messy, Haymitch followed his path and walked down the narrow hallway, barefoot.

Marcus noticed his absence of shoes immediately. "Come on now, Haymitch! Is your District so barbaric you do not wear shoes?" The dining quarters went silent by this sudden outburst. Marcus's eyes widened for a moment. "Well, I'm just asking! I'm trying to make you presentable!"

Really the reason Haymitch wasn't wearing shoes was because he liked the feeling of the carpet on his bare feet, but he decided to say, "Yes. In addition to not wearing shoes, we eat raw squirrels for breakfast and drink blood like it is water. Quite delicious, and it does wonders to the hair." His escort's eyes widened, horrified, while Maysilee and Mika sniggered. Charman sneered instead. Satisfied, Haymitch settled himself at the round table, where they were all seated. He noticed that the sixth chair, which was supposed to be for their mentor, Ariel Quint, was empty.

The other tributes seemed to have noticed it too, because Mika blurted, "Where's Ariel?"

Marcus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Ariel will not be helping with the Games this year."

Maysilee's jaw dropped. "We don't have a mentor?"

More shifting and fidgeting. "No."

Charman's eyes narrowed. "So we are going to be going into the arena with no assistance or advice whatsoever?"

Marcus' chest swelled with pride. "I will be your mentor."

"Great. I can already imagine what enlightening advice _you _will be giving us," Haymitch said. "I suppose we'll only have enough time to take in the scenery of whatever hellhole we're dropped in before we're killed."

"Let's hope it's a nice hellhole," Maysilee offered optimistically.

"Children-" Marcus said, desperately trying to cut in. A look of relief crossed his face and he relaxed in his chair. "The food has arrived."

All four of them were immediately silent as food was placed, plate after plate, in front of them. A platter holding a large sliced ham with glazed brown sugar coating; a vibrant vegetable salad drizzled with a sweet-looking orange sauce; fluffy golden buns with real creamy white butter, and for dessert, a large bowl of some soft looking white substance, kept in a tureen of ice to stay chilly. Haymitch had never seen such food, and spend a minute or two simply staring at it while his mouth watered. Mika and Charman had already begun heaping their plates ravenously, while Maysilee and Marcus took their time, taking neat portions.

Haymitch nudged Maysilee. "What should I take first?" he whispered.

She shrugged. "Anything really. You might as well eat a lot; gain a few pounds before we end up starving to death again." He took her advice and heaped his plate with as much food as it could hold.

It was the best meal he'd ever eaten. He felt the food hitting his stomach and discovered that actually feeling full, with a completely satisfied stomach, was more uncomfortable that he'd realized. Right before he'd felt like he would burst, he stopped eating, eying the cold white substance apprehensively.

He tapped Maysilee on the arm again. "What is that stuff?"

"It's ice cream," she said. She grabbed a bowl and used a spoon to scoop a hearty amount into it. Then she set it in front of Haymitch. "My father bought some once as a birthday present. It's really good. Try it."

Haymitch carefully scooped some onto the spoon. It was smooth and creamy, almost like butter.

"Go on," Maysilee urged, giggling a bit. He placed the spoon in his mouth and his eyes widened. It was _cold_- like snow, almost, but sweet and flowing, like a stream. It was the best thing he'd ever tasted, better than the ham and the salad and the rolls. He quickly finished the bowl and used his tongue to lick it clean. Looking at Maysilee, he saw that she was smiling and her eyes were twinkling.

"What?" he asked.

"You have something on your nose," she said quietly, raising a finger to wipe a small spot of melted ice cream off the tip of Haymitch's nose.

Charman ruined the nicer moment by clearing his throat. Haymitch immediately closed his eyes, biting his tongue to suppress a string of insults. "Sorry disturb you lovebirds, but when are we getting to the Capitol?"

Marcus looked at his watch. "We had to leave slightly behind schedule, seeing as we now have twice the amount of tributes. Once you wake up tomorrow morning, we should be there shortly after. I suggest you get some sleep. Tomorrow's a big, big day!"

They all nodded. Haymitch returned to his room, lying on the bed, remembering the nicer parts of the day. Liona. Maysilee. The train. The food. The ice cream. It was all so nice; it was almost as if they were trying to get them to forget that most of them would probably die in the next week. _Like fattening a pig for slaughter, _Haymitch thought, he stared at the ceiling, eating the dinner rolls that he smuggled in his pocket.


	3. The Prep Teams

**Hello people. **

**BOOK RECCOMENDATION TIME… If you like the Hunger Games (which you probably do, if you are reading this) then you should read Divergent by Veronica Roth. I'm finishing reading it for the second time and it is FREAKING AMAZING. READ IT OR ELSE.**

**Sorry if this chapter ends abruptly, but I couldn't think about any way to end it.**

**Please review, tell me what you think? Like? Dislike? Suggestions? Arena ideas? (I know how it will basically go in the Arena, of course, but I need time fillers!) Review, tell me what you think, and I also love book recommendations. If you've read a good book lately, review or PM me it. I need something to read over break. **

**Annnnyway… here we go**

Right after he hopped off the train, Haymitch was herded toward the Training Building. It was the largest building he's ever seen- made of glass, so impeccable it was like looking in a mirror. On one side of it, he saw the surrounding buildings being bathed in golden sunlight, and he assumed that if someone looked at the reflective sides in direct sunlight for long enough, they could probably be blinded. The inside of the building was just as beautiful- all the walls were made of glass, so clean Haymitch felt like if he could walk straight through and back onto the street. He suddenly felt Marcus's small hands on his shoulders, herding him toward a large, ornate door decorated with metallic silver ribbon.

"This way, this way," Marcus said, urging him through the doors. He was greeted by a large group of about 12 people. Counting quickly, Haymitch saw that there were three people for each tribute. _Oh, god… _he thought, _this must be where we meet the prep team._ This proved to be true as soon as Marcus opened his annoying mouth again. "Okay, tributes! Here we will assign you to your individual prep teams, and they will get you ready for the parade tonight!"

The teams squealed in excitement, and at that moment Haymitch realized how much he didn't want any of them to come anywhere near him. Most of them were so surgically altered they were grotesque; with hair and eyes and skin in all different shades, like oil on water, they looked like they were from some alien planet. Haymitch wished that was where they were, instead of standing in front of them, waiting to do all sorts of things to make him appealing.

"Say 'hi', prep teams!" Marcus said enthusiastically. The teams all said hello in their accents, making them sound like small dogs. "Now, I will assign teams for each of you! Ladies first!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Haymitch saw the girls squirm uncomfortably. Clearly they were as freaked out by these ridiculous people as he was.

"Mika, you will get Shafara, Mikkael, and Siri!" Mika's prep team squealed once again and surrounded her, jumping up and down and herding her through a doorway concealed by a red velvet curtain. "Maysilee, you have Humsworth, Candice, and Aquaria!"

Maysilee managed to shoot Haymitch a _kill-me-now _look right before her team ambushed her. Haymitch chuckled, but then remembered that he was in the Games- he could end up killing her. It was such a simple look, but all of a sudden, Haymitch felt grumpy and irritable.

"Now for the manly men!" Marcus announced. Charman looked like he was trying not to gag. "For Charman, Nikita, Beanean, and Volotro, and for Haymitch, Shaniqua, Lefonda, and Zimbabwe!"

Before he could blink, Haymitch was grabbed by the three most unbelievable looking humans he had ever laid eyes on and dragged through a velvet curtain into a room that he recognized from _the Hunger Games: Behind the Scenes_, a show that was usually on before the interviews. It looked like a spa, with a large bathtub, mirrors all around, and all sorts of equipment used for embellishing the tributes.

Lefonda, a young woman with a small black afro, gold eyes, and skin that was pigmented a light periwinkle, clapped her hands. Haymitch couldn't help thinking of the children he'd seen, the homeless ones who got stuck outside during the long cold months of District 12. Her skin color absolutely matched their faces as they froze to death. "Let's get started! Remove your clothes please!"

Haymitch was silent for one bewildered moment. "What?"

"Are you shy?" Shaniqua giggled. Her flame-red hair bounced up and down as her stick- thin body shook. Haymitch stared at her prominent hips in amazement. She clearly didn't have to starve to death in the Capitol- why was she so _thin?_

"Yeah, we don't have to use these!" The man, Zimbabwe, said. His skin was covered with inky black tattoos, causing his bright yellow hair to stick out. His violet eyes twinkled as he held up a pair of very large, very sharp scissors. Haymitch eyed the blades apprehensively. They were undoubtedly razor-sharp; if he struggled while they were trying to cut his clothes off, his skin would most likely be sliced. Reluctantly, he peeled the all-black outfit off.

"Ugh, what a foul taste in fashion you have," Shaniqua said, picking up the clothes and tossing them into a nearby garbage can. Haymitch couldn't help but notice she was wearing a floor-length red skirt and a light green strapless top embellished with yellow sequins.

The three of them circled him; taking in every single bit of is body. He could help but feel… _violated. _No one had ever seen him naked, not even Liona. It felt so _wrong_; Haymitch decided then he would give his left arm for something to cover up with.

Thankfully, at that moment, Lefonda tossed a white, fluffy robe at him.

"I guess we'll start with the eyebrows," she said.

Three hours later, Haymitch felt like a child's doll. He had been plucked, his hair had been cut, and his body had been rubbed with so many different kinds of lotions he felt greasy. The team gave them their cheery goodbyes, so he could meet with the stylist on his costume. Haymitch was almost excited to see them go; until he met Rina.

Rina was a horrifying-looking woman. She was much older than Lefonda, Shaniqua, and Zimbabwe, and her gold facial tattoos had been stretched like plastic over her face; Haymitch recognized it as some of the absurd things Capitol citizens did to themselves to look younger. She was cloaked in all black, wearing a dress that looked like it was made of decaying spider webs. Her hair was poufed in crazy ringlets all over her head, dyed hot pink, though the gray roots were clearly prominent. She had an artificially enormous chest, and her shape was almost like a child's ball, with little spindly legs. Haymitch gagged the moment he saw her, but she was delighted by his reaction.

"Don't get all choked up now that you've seen me!" she said, waving her hand airily. _Why do they all think I'm complimenting them? _"Wait until you see your chariot costume- _then _it will be okay to cry! As long as you don't ruin your makeup, of course!"

Not much later, Haymitch found himself in a coal miner's outfit- or at least the Capitol's idea of a coal miner's outfit. He wore skintight black leather pants, black lace up boots, and a heavy helmet with a flashlight. He was shirtless, but coated in a black metallic dust that did not resemble the powder that was held in his token at all. His eyes were ringed in smoky eyeliner, and his lashed were so coated in mascara that they looked like spider's legs.

"I look awful," he said, grimacing as he looked in the mirror.

Rina gasped. "Nonsense!" She was clearly extremely offended. She hurried about him, adjusting his helmet and powdering more dust onto his already-black shoulders. "You look stunning! You will stand out against all the other tributes!"

"Will I." It was not really a question, but a statement. "Well, I would rather go naked and covered in coal dust."

Rina's eyes lit up. "Now there's an idea…"

Haymitch hopped off the platform before she could remove his pants. _She'd have to cut them off, they're so tight. _"Let's go to the chariots, shall we?"

Rina clapped in delight and followed him out of the salon.

The other tributes were standing around the chariot they would ride on. The Capitol had to make new ones for the Quarter Quell, seeing as they would have to hold twice the amount of tributes. Haymitch was glad to see they all looked as ridiculous as him. Charman was much skinnier, and he looked absolutely scrawny- Haymitch could only think that he would lose sponsors because he looked so weak. Mika was even worse- instead of being shirtless, the girls had a black band circling their chests, and it clearly showed that she hadn't had a decent meal in her life. Maysilee was probably the only one that didn't look horrible- she had more food to eat, since she wasn't from the Seam, and she didn't look as skinny as the rest of them. Instead, she looked positively fierce when she stared at Haymitch with her deep blue eyes.

"You don't look bad," she said, observing him up and down. "The sponsors will all be rushing for you."

Haymitch laughed. "Only if there are tributes dressed as trees or cows, like every year."

She cracked a smile. "Of course there will be."

Marcus hopped up between them, forcing their heads down so he could turn on the lights on their helmets. "Sorry to interrupt your conversations, but it's time to go!"

Haymitch hopped up onto the chariot with ease, helping the other tributes up. They stood shoulder to shoulder, with Charman and Mika on the ends and Haymitch and Maysilee in the middle. The Capitol anthem began to play, and the horses pulling the chariot began their slow trot. Maysilee had to grab Mika's arm before she fell off with the sudden movement.

Then, all of a sudden, the air was filled with cheers. Capitol citizens were packed on both sides of the chariot, the crowd pulsing as each person tried to inch their way closer to the tributes. Haymitch had to resist the urge to clap his hands over his ears to get rid of the noise. Instead, he scowled, wishing the parade would be over with soon. Maysilee clearly felt different- she was smiling and waving at the crowd, blowing them kisses as hands reached up to catch them. People screamed her name, begging her to turn her head their way.

"Enjoy yourself," she said to Haymitch, her arm in the air.

"Screw that," he mumbled. "When can we eat? I'm starving." Maysilee raised her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth curled. "Not literally starving, of course, but I have been there."

"Well, you'll be starving later if you don't get any sponsors for looking so sullen," she answered. "At least wave!" With that, she grabbed his arm and raised it into the air. Immediately the noise grew to nearly deafening.

"Haymitch! Haymitch!" The crowd roared. Maysilee's arm dropped but he kept waving- if this meant he would stay alive longer in the arena, and then he would have to bear it.


	4. Rooftop

**Hello people.**

**I haven't written in a while… COUGH COUGH months… but I managed to write this over the course of the week, and yeah. Please enjoy. I didn't really edit it too much, and if there are mistakes I'm sorry, but I really wanted to get at least something up quickly.**

**So. **

**Enjoy. **

"Oh my GOD," Haymitch groaned in the elevator. His legs were numb from the chariot ride and he was still covered with itchy coal dust, which would not come off no matter how hard he rubbed his arms; it just smeared more. Plus his legs felt like they had lost all circulation. _On the bright side, maybe they'll have to amputate them. I'd rather live with no legs than die, anyway. _

"Oh, stop complaining," Maysilee said beside him. She'd been rubbing her arms too; not because of the dust, but because she was cold. "I know you secretly love those pants."

"I planned on having children someday," Haymitch said in a pained voice. Maysilee giggled.

_Ding. _The elevator door slid open to reveal Marcus, who clapped his hands enthusiastically. "Hop to it! We've been waiting for you two!"

Haymitch resisted throttling him. "What for?" he asked grumpily, twisting his finger in his ear to get rid of some stray dust.

"To watch the recaps, of course!" Marcus' eyes grew bright and faraway and his voice took on a dreamy quality. "Every tribute must watch the recaps! How else will they see themselves in their most glorious moments and compare themselves to the rest, how else will they see their crowd of admirers…"

As Marcus went on, Maysilee leaned near Haymitch and whispered out of the corner of her mouth. He was very aware of her lips just brushing his ear. "Maybe we can knock him out if we hit him hard enough," she suggested, weighing her Capitol coal helmet in her hands.

"That may not work," he whispered back. "He's so thick-skulled; it will probably bounce right off."

Maysilee bit her lip, thinking. Haymitch glanced at Marcus, who was still rambling. He caught the words 'honors of our friendly ancestors' and wondered vaguely what he was talking about. "We could always ditch and go up to the roof or something. I don't think they'll look for us up there."

"Good idea. I just want to shower first, and cut off my pants," Haymitch agreed. Maysilee nodded, and the two of them turned back to Marcus, who seemed to be wrapping up his speech.

"… and the children will fly up to the heavens on sea turtles!" he finished with a grandiose arm movement. Haymitch clapped slowly, hoping it would be a sarcastic enough gesture to irritate him, but Marcus instead bowed deeply. "Now, get ready to watch the recaps!"

"Sure, Marcus," Haymitch said, brushing past him into his room. He beelined first to his knife and then to the bathroom. There was no way he'd be able to get the stupid skintight pants off; he carefully slid the tip of the blade under the waistband, until the edge snagged and ripped. Then he was able to use his hands to rip each leg down the seams. Then he dove into the shower to wash the annoying dust off, but was dismayed to see dozens and dozens of complicated dials and buttons. He'd taken a shower before, so he knew how it worked; this shower was unbelievably confusing. On a whim, he pressed a large silver button, hoping it would turn the water on, but instead he was sprayed from head to toe with some thick, gelatinous substance that smelled of roses. The smell was intoxicating and, not trusting any of the other shower buttons, he scrubbed it off with a washcloth and then used that washcloth to clean himself from the sink. On the bright side, the rosy soap immediately removed all dust; on the other hand, he smelled like a heavily perfumed woman.

"I must smell completely deadly," Haymitch muttered as he pulled on another outfit of gray and black. Just as he finished lacing his shoes, there was a knock on the door. What if it was Marcus? Haymitch weighed his knife in his hand. He wouldn't kill him, of course, but maybe if he made himself seem unhappy or dangerous enough Marcus would run away crying. He hid his knife behind his back as he opened the door a tiny bit. Maysilee stood there, dressed in a blue outfit that matched her eyes.

She sniffed and wrinkled her nose. "Did a rose garden die in there?"

Haymitch scowled. "Maybe."

Maysilee laughed, a bell-like sound. "Let's go, before Marcus smells you out."

They entered the elevator and pressed the highest button. The elevator chugged to a start and began rising upward. Haymitch rocked back and forth on his heels, and they were silent for a second until Maysilee whispered, "It's hard to stay positive here."

The whisper was so quiet Haymitch hardly heard it. "What?"

"It's hard to stay positive here," Maysilee repeated, louder this time. "I'm trying to keep my mind off the Games here and focus on something nice other than the fact that I will probably die in a week." She looked at Haymitch miserably. "I can't stop thinking about it, and I think I'm going to go crazy."

He didn't know what to say. Even Maysilee, who seemed the most upbeat and stable out of all of them, was feeling the crushing pressure of the Games. Just like Haymitch was, though he was ignoring it, swallowing the growing panic inside his chest.

Maysilee stood there, waiting for a response. When Haymitch didn't say anything, she cleared her throat. "It's okay if you don't answer. The only think I'd be able to say after something like that is 'me too.'"

The elevator doors dinged open. "Me too," Haymitch said quietly. He took Maysilee's hand and her fingers closed tightly around his as they stepped onto the roof. The wind hit them fully in the face, making them stumble backward a step. When they were able to regain their balance, they could admire the view; tiny lights, like sparks that flew up from the fire, dotted the faraway ground as far as they could see- so many of them that Haymitch and Maysilee were enveloped in multicolored light.

"My god," Maysilee breathed. Haymitch nodded in agreement. She pulled on his hand and led him behind a small shed. He saw her reasoning immediately; they were hidden from plain sight, in case Marcus or anyone else came to find them. It also blocked the wind, so they could hear each other talk. Maysilee lowered herself onto the ground and curled up small, hugging her knees, and Haymitch leaned casually against the shed.

Maysilee sighed. "It's so beautiful up here," she said. "Kind of makes you forget about everything." Haymitch nodded, unsure what to say. "It's funny if you think that all those buildings have people in them that know your name." Haymitch didn't think it was all that funny; he didn't like that most of those people were going to bet on if he'll die on the first day.

"I know you're scared," she said suddenly. Haymitch looked down at her in surprise, but she stared on at the twinkling buildings. "You don't act scared, but I know you're as terrified as I am. I can see it in your eyes."

He opened his mouth to protest, but nothing would come out. Instead, he slid down the wall until he was also sitting next to Maysilee. "I guess I am. I just don't want people to exploit that."

She nodded in agreement. "Me neither." Suddenly, her body grew rigid.

"What is it?" Haymitch asked, beginning to push himself up, but she threw an arm against his chest and shoved him down again.

"I hear someone." Sure enough, his ears picked up the slight crunch of gravel over the wind. He leaned slightly to the side, and was able to discern the faint outline of a stick-thin girl; Maysilee leaned against him, trying to see as well. "Who is it?"

The twiglike limbs, thin black hair… it was Mika. She took frail steps toward the edge of the building and looked out at the lights. Then she took another step, and another… before he knew what he was doing, he had leapt to his feet, sprinting toward her. "Mika, no!" His hand flew up to catch her just as she stepped into thin air.

Haymitch's mind went blank. Mika. Just like that, she was gone. Stepped over the edge. At least she wouldn't have to fight in the Games. At least… Haymitch leaned to look at the ground below. He saw a shape that he assumed was the tiny girl from the Seam. Something didn't seem right though; _why was she getting closer?_

He had just enough time to realize what was happening just as Mika's frail body slammed into his chest. They both flew back onto the gravel. Haymitch felt the small rocks cutting through his shirt onto his back, and he lay there gasping. Mika lay half on top of him, motionless.

"Haymitch! Are you-" Haymitch cut Maysilee off with his hand and motioned to Mika. Maysilee carefully rolled the other girl off him. There was smoke rolling off her clothes and he smelled burnt hair. Her head lolled and one of her legs lay on the ground awkwardly; Haymitch suspected it was broken.

He pushed himself up with his elbows and wheezed, "Is she alive?"

"Yes," Maysilee said, feeling for a pulse. "What the heck happened?"

"I have no idea."


End file.
